Sweet Southern Betrayal Read Free

water off his face with a towel, he spied the wastebasket, his fuzzy brain taking a few seconds to process what was in there. Condom wrappers. Empty condom wrappers. He counted quickly—four to be exact—and he reached out to steady himself on the counter. Pride at being able to get it up four times last night battled with the realization that he had taken someone to bed and didn’t remember it. Oh hell .
    On shaky legs, Teague walked back into the bedroom and over to the bed, wondering how he’d missed the human-shaped lump still there. He walked around the huge, heart-shaped bed and took at look at the woman sleeping there. Hair the color of flame, skin the color of cream, and long, finely boned limbs. She was gorgeous.
    Teague leaned closer. The scent of her perfume—something citrus and spicy—flooded him with memories of just how well he knew this stranger. Heated bodies. A husky laugh. Hair like silk gliding along his abdomen as she covered his skin with kisses, making her way down to the part of him that was even now responding to her. Eyes the color of moss—deep green shot with silver.
    “Holy hell.” Teague stood up, the fuzziness lifting from his brain with the realization of what he’d done. The risk he’d taken with a stranger. The risk he’d taken with his career. Fuck.
    The woman stirred at his words, her body stretching out from under the concealment of the covers, exposing more of her skin, the pink nipples on her lush breasts, and the enticing strip of red-gold curls covering her sex. Damn, she was beautiful. Drunk or not, it would have been damn near impossible to walk away from this angel.
    “Good morning.” She sat up, completely at ease with her nakedness, the sexy rasp to her voice perfectly suited for a woman who could star in a million fantasies. She ran a hand through her curls, pushing them back from her face as she observed him. Her gaze was open, taking a slow, full measure of him before she cradled her head and winced. “Or is it?”
    “Uh…” For a man who made his living with words, Teague had none. It had been years since he’d woken with a stranger in his bed, and he was out of practice with the protocol of how to deal with a drunken hookup. Shake hands? Call her a cab? Offer round two—or in this case—five? “I’m a little fuzzy on the details from last night.”
    “Great. That makes two of us.” She slipped out of the bed, her long, supple body unfolding from the nest of bedsheets to walk over to him at a careful pace. When she stopped in front of him, he noted how tall she was, just a few inches shorter than his six feet one inches. Her gaze caught his for a moment before she looked down, slowly taking stock of him, including his cock, now paying full attention to the sexy woman in such close proximity. When she finally raised her head and looked him in the eyes, his skin prickled with the heat and desire banked behind her lashes. He wasn’t the only one who remembered how hot they’d been together, and it took a tight clench of his fists to resist pushing her back on the bed and creating memories that weren’t clouded by the haze of alcohol.
    “Well, I always did have amazing taste in men,” she drawled in a voice that made him think of smoke, whiskey, and nights spent shouting out your pleasure.
    She was the kind of woman who made men like him forget they had plans. Hell, she’d make them change their plans.
    Good thing he was leaving today.
    She stuck her hand out, and for a moment he thought she was going to shake his, but instead her palm landed against his chest, skin warm and touch electric.
    “I’m Risa. Risa Clay, and I won’t even pretend that I remember your name.”
    “Teague Elliott,” he said, his voice rough to his own ears.
    “From the accent, I’d say you aren’t from Nevada.” Risa winked at him, her lips twisting into a grin before she walked past him tossing pillows and other bed items in search of something.
    “Virginia.” He